


Coffee At Midnight

by winglesswarrior



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:22:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winglesswarrior/pseuds/winglesswarrior
Summary: Randall is not Hamish's favorite customer.Except he is and Hamish really hopes he doesn't figure it out.----A coffee shop AU
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Coffee At Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Did this fandom need a coffee shop AU? Probably not, but you got one. 
> 
> Beta'd by me, so errors are mine.

Hamish had just sprinkled a dash of nutmeg to the intricate foam design he'd painstakingly added to the coffee drink when the bell over the door chimed and Lilith walked in, shutting and locking it behind her. He was always in the shop an hour before they opened, but he could rely on Lilith to be ever punctual and walk through the doors at seven forty-five on the nose. He set the mug on the counter, sliding it towards her as he went back to getting everything ready to open the shop in the next fifteen minutes. 

"What this one called?" she asked, giving it a sniff before taking a sip. She was always his willing taste-tester despite whatever complaints she might claim to have.   
"A wisp of fall," he told her, setting the cup of chalkboard markers next to her elbow. 

"You're such a sap," she said, rolling her eyes, but taking another sip. That meant it was good and Hamish smiled to himself. Lilith might be notorious for her teasing and eye rolling, but he knew that it came from a place that meant she cared. She wouldn't bother with even reacting if she didn't care.   
"Espresso, a milk foam, and my own, handmade, cinnamon infused syrup." 

"And a snob," she added. She set the mug aside and took down the daily special chalkboard to start adding the drink to it. She'd scoffed when he asked her to do it, insisting that just because she was girl didn't mean she had better handwriting, but after the third day of having to translate his disjointed, loopy letters, that she'd snatched the board and did it herself. 

"You should try my cocktails." 

"I have a hard enough time trying your coffee," she reminded him, but took over one of the tables to fill out the board, adding little leaves in orange and yellows around it.

The drink was fitting for the day, that first hint of fall in the air, where the morning felt crisper and brighter than before, like the oppressive heat of summer was finally breaking. Hamish finished setting up what they'd need behind the counter and headed to the door, flipping the lock and associated sign. They'd get their first customers within the next fifteen minutes, a stream of college students dropping by for caffeine hits before their first classes of the day and keep up a steady level of busy throughout the morning and midday. Afternoon was the quietest, too early for the late night coffee drinkers, dates, and studiers, but too late for those needing fuel for the morning. 

Lilith hung up the sign just as their first customers came through the door, and she manned the register while Hamish made drinks in the mismatched collection of mugs or to go cups for those not interested in lingering. Lilith had picked the music, some indie girl singer, but it was upbeat enough to keep Hamish's head nodding along every once in a while as he worked. He'd have preferred classical, or maybe an easy jazz, but Lilith scolded him that that made his customers sleepy. He'd just poured out four perfect lattes and was replacing the lids on them when she called out to him. 

"Watch the register will you?" she said, then as soon as he turned to look at her, she walked back into the back room. 

"What? Why? I can—" Hamish was cut off halfway through whatever he was saying because someone else had just moved into his line of sight. Dark curls, dark eyes, legs for days, and long fingers that Hamish was pretty sure he'd had all too vivid dreams about. "Oh." Lilith was a vindictive bitch and Hamish wasn't sure if he loved her or hated her. 

"Oh? Come on Ham-sandwich—" 

"Please, no." 

"Is that how you greet your favorite customer?" Hamish had no idea how the pre-med student with the hair and hands had determined that he was Hamish's favorite customer, but he had a guess Randall Carpio just assumed as much about himself and waited to be proved wrong. Even with the ridiculous nicknames the man kept testing out, Hamish was hard pressed to not give in and say that yes, he did in fact look forward to seeing Randall almost every day. But admitting that was admitting to a lot of things all at once. 

As far as sexuality was concerned, Hamish had always considered himself straight with an option for bisexuality. He was a scholar, a believer in the Kinsey scale and how some things were more fluid than others. It was that kind of thinking that made him change his major from pre-law to philosophy and pursue that graduate course of study instead of the clearly preferred previous one. His father had yet to let him live it down, even more so when Hamish wanted to take over the coffeeshop in the ground floor the building his parents owned instead of law school. His father considered it all a whimsical waste of time or so he reminded Hamish the few times he called home. 

He'd had the love of his life though, Cassie with her perfect smile and hair, her intellectual match for him, but when their engagement had been broken off and she moved to the other end of the country, Hamish mostly assumed love was not in the cards for him. Not much in the way of lust either, spending most of his time with his studies or coffee creations, but apparently Randall's sheer existence wanted to test that. And confirm any theories he might have had about his bisexuality. Because he was, without a doubt, attracted to the man grinning at him. And Lilith knew. Why else had she ducked off to 'get something' when any other hour of the day she'd have sent him or waited until the afternoon for Jack to take care of it? Lilith was a powerful feminist but also a skilled delegator. 

"No one said you're anyone's favorite," Hamish said, lying to himself and the guy in front of him. He wiped his hands off on his apron and focused on the register.

"Lilith did." 

"She would never." 

"Fair. Jack?" 

Hamish rolled his eyes. "Jack wouldn't even notice." He liked Jack, but Jack was always in his own head. 

"That just leaves you Ham radio." Randall's smile was too big for Hamish's liking. 

"No more." Hamish straightened his apron for lack of something better to do with his hands. "What can I get you?" 

"How's the special? Wispy?" The tone was teasing, but Randall was still smiling wide, leaning on the counter like he had nothing better to do than banter. 

"It's not as strong you usually order." Hamish did not want to lean into the flirting, or what seemed like flirting. Randall talked to Lilith and Jack the same way. 

"You know my usual order!" Randall pressed a hand to his chest like he was touched, and smiled. "Alright, give me one of my usual and one of the special. My friend might like the special." 

Hamish's fingers slipped when Randall drew out the word friend to make it sound lewd. "Friend?' he asked, voice not nearly as sure as he would have liked it to be. 

"Yup, got a date." Randall winked aggressively and then held out his card. "I know it's early in the day, but it's the only time she was free. Or well, she's not free as much I know she'll be here, so I'm going to make sure she sees me." Hamish felt his jaw clench and had enough self awareness to know that was not the normal physical reaction to hearing an acquaintance had a love interest. "Maybe it's not as much of date as much of wooing a hook up into a date." Randall shrugged like it was nothing. Hamish hit the touchscreen for his order harder than needed to completely the transaction. 

"I'll bring it over to you," he said, hating that he was offering, not just wiling to call out Randall's name from the counter like he might with most orders. 

"You're a peach Hamish," Randall said, throwing in another over the top wink before heading to his chair in the corner. 

"You're bad at this." Lilith was back, nothing in hand, which merely confirmed that she'd done it on purpose. 

:"Bad at what exactly?" Hamish got to work on the order, not looking at her and playing dumb despite the fact that he knew exactly what she was talking about. 

"Don't be coy. Talking to someone you've been pining after for months now." 

"It has not been _months_." 

"Has too. Since Jack started working here and you had that stupid ice cream coffee concoction that we sold too many of and made half the customers hot for you." 

"That was a good one," Hamish said with a soft sigh. A first summer drink, and one of the first times he'd talked to Randall. Damn Lilith and her observant disinterest. He let himself believe she wasn't paying attention when he should always know better. 

"You think he'd realize you want that and not get caught up on some stupid girl who hooked up with him and didn't call back." Lilith propped her chin on her hand, leaning on the counter. Out of habit Hamish pushed her off of it, keeping the area clean. She shot him a glare, but at least she didn't lean back on it out of spite. 

"It's not anything like that. Interest aside, it's a terrible idea. He dresses like he's always headed to or from the gym." And as a master of his own style, Hamish wasn't sure how he felt about the collection of loud t-shirts, oversized hoodies, and track pants. So many track pants. 

"You don't really care about that," Lilith said with a wave of her hand, going back to her register when the door chimed again. She was right, essentially. He did care about how he looked, but it wasn't like Randall's clothing choices made him anything less. The man would look good wearing a trash bag. And the comfortable, easy to move in style seemed to suit the fact that Randall was constantly in motion. Still, regardless of whether or not Lilith was right, Hamish was not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was. 

Hamish was just finishing up the drinks when the bell over the door chimed again and he saw Randall wave at the girl that had just walked into the shop. She was petite, dark skin and eyes with perfectly curled dark brown hair shot through with expensive highlights. If Hamish was trying to craft his opposite in a person, she was most definitely the starting point. He let out a breath, pushing a hand through his hair and carried the two drinks over to where she'd reluctantly joined Randall, perched on the edge of her chair and giving him a look that screamed she wasn't amused. Hamish set Randall's to go cup of espresso shots mixed with just enough milk to take the bite out in front of him, in the cup with a lid because he didn't trust Randall not to spill and the perfectly crafted mug in front of Randall's friend. Hamish wasn't sure why, but he'd put extra effort into her drink, the leaf design made in foam perfect. 

"Does this have milk in it? Like _cow's milk_?" she said, leaning back from the drink, lip curling into a sneer. 

"Yes?" Hamish asked, looking at Randall, then back at her. What a genuinely difficult person to be around. Why was Randall taken with her? 

"Um, no." She slid the mug roughly back towards Hamish, the design blurring away. "Gross. I'm leaving." 

Hamish had half a second to get angry, but fingers closed around his arm before he could retort. Warm, long fingers that Hamish definitely had had dreams about. A pad of a thumb brushed against the tender skin on the inside of his forearm, bleeding the anger out of him, leaving him with just sadness, and shock. Shock that Randall would bother. That he was getting up, letting go of Hamish and reaching for Hamish's opposite. 

"Gabs, come on. I didn't know. I'll take the drink and get you something else. Whatever you want. Just talk to me." Randall was pleading and Hamish hated this girl even more. What did she have that made Randall feel like he needed to beg for her attention. She narrowed her eyes at him, crossed her arms over her chest, clearly making him wait, and Randall gave her a sad puppy look, hands clasped in front of him. 

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and turned to Hamish. "Almond milk, no foam, latte." Hamish looked at Randall, who looked so damn hopeful it made Hamish grit his teeth. He should just walk away, but apparently he couldn't. "You can just bring it here," she added, then made a little shooing motion. 

Hamish knew his smile wasn't pretty, it was angry and probably had too much teeth, but he nodded and turned on a heel, back to the counter. Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Almond milk, no foam, latte," he told her. "I'm going on a break." 

By some small miracle he'd managed to keep his cool until he was in the back room, yanking at the strings on his apron. His breathing was labored, a growl pushing its way up his throat that he managed to bite back. It wasn't a big deal. It didn't need to be a big deal. But it felt like a big deal. It felt warm and hot and he was fucking sweating under his shirt and he was never like this. He tossed the apron aside and leaned back against the wall. There were a million questions about why Randall bothered with the girl, but they were pointless against one single question. 

Why did Hamish care? 

He only had a moment to ponder the idea, when Jack wandered in twisted in his apron, and yammering on the phone tucked under his chin. "It's not like that," he insisted at whomever was on the line, but Hamish guessed it was his on again, off again, lady friend. Hamish let out a breath and caught one of the ties of the apron to keep Jack from turning around a second time, and pulled it with the other to tie it into place. Jack looked grateful, mouthed a 'thank you' and turned to head back to the break room, but he paused for a moment, giving Hamish a look, brows furrowed like he wanted to ask a question, but had no idea what the question should be. 

Hamish waved Jack's rare moment of noticing something outside of his own little world which was more than enough for the other guy. Jack was nice, a decent worker if he was focused, but he rarely the kind of person who noticed things. Probably why he and Alyssa had such a hard time making it work. Hamish watched Jack go, then let out a breath, figuring he'd hid long enough. He grabbed the apron, looping it over his head as he headed back into the cafe, almost running smack into Randall. 

"You can't be back here." It was the first thing out of his mouth and probably terser than it needed to be. Randall didn't look upset though, he just looked around him and took one giant step back to put him beyond the sacred barrier of the counter. 

"Sorry," he said holding his hands up in surrender. 

Hamish shook his head, looking around then back to Randall. "What are you doing back here?" 

"Looking for you." Randall's tone implied that should have been obvious. "Lilith said..." Hamish stole a glance at his coworker who was definitely listening in even though her eyes were fixed on the shirt of the guy standing in front of her. 

"Not...here." Hamish moved before he thought about it, grabbing Randall's arm and pulling him away from the counter, the back room that Jack might appear out of any moment and around corner that led into one of the deeper alcoves of the shop. Randall made a small show of being manhandled, but still went willingly. "Where's..." 

"Gabby? She left. With her latte." Randall shrugged with his whole body, shoulders up near his ears before letting them drop. "Can't win them all." 

"She's an idiot." Hamish winced after he said it, not sure why he'd even said it.

"Hardly. I think she acts like that on purpo—hold on did you just give me a compliment?" Randall's tone changed halfway through the sentence and he was grinning in a way that lit up his whole face. 

"No," Hamish said with a shake of his head, but he could see Randall knew he was full of it because the wattage on the grin didn't dim in the slightest. 

"I knew there was a gooey center under all," Randall waved at Hamish. "All this. Why do you wear things with so many buttons?" Randall's hand darted out to brush against Hamish's stomach where the buttons of his vest were hidden under the apron. 

"I like to look nice. Why is everything you wear so large?" 

"Because I like to be comfortable." Randall smiled, and Hamish realized he hadn't moved his hand. He still had one of those torturous fingers tracing the outline of a button. "Why haven't you asked me yet?" 

"Asked you what?" Hamish moved back, legs bumping into the table behind him. It gave him at best three inches of extra space between them, but it didn't feel like enough. And it felt like too much. What was Randall expecting him to ask? Why was he looking at Hamish like Hamish could read his mind, when Hamish damn well couldn't? 

There was a pause, pregnant as ever, and Hamish was pretty sure he didn't breathe through the whole thing. It could have been seconds or hours, but for however long it was, Hamish wasn't breathing. "What I thought of the drink." 

The air rushed out of Hamish's mouth in an audible sort of huff. All of that lead up for that? Only Randall was looking at him like that wasn't the actual question. Like he was waiting for Hamish to ask him something else, but Hamish had no idea what that might be. "What did you think then?" 

"Wispy," Randall said, breaking into another grin. "Can't wait for tomorrow's." He bounced up on his toes, which brought him to the same height as Hamish, looking at him closely for a second before bouncing back down and walking backwards. "I'll see you then!" 

The bell over the door rang as he left, and Hamish shook his head, walking back to the counter, ignoring Lilith's pointed look. Jack frowned from where he'd just emerged from the back room. "Was that Randall?"


End file.
